


the space between held breaths

by Thornofthelily



Category: Persona 5
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, No Porn, Plot What Plot, and illicit levels of softness, just extensive descriptions of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornofthelily/pseuds/Thornofthelily
Summary: They hadn’t said a word, all this time. And not ever, really, about… themselves. Akira let himself think the jazz club, the aquarium, the café, were all dates. They felt like dates. And Akechi always acted like they were special. Like Akira was special. Seemed more interested in him than anyone else. And this moment, it felt special. The movie droned on in front of them, but Akira hadn’t seen or heard any bit of it. All he could think about was...Akira looked up at Akechi, heart slamming in his ears as he dared to see Akechi's expression. When hard garnet eyes met his, Akira's breath froze in his lungs. A warm, hooded gaze met Akira, a quiet fire burning low, his damp lips slightly parted. Was this... were they...?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 20
Kudos: 271





	the space between held breaths

They were watching a movie together, one quiet night up in Leblanc’s attic, on his shitty old TV and sitting on his ratty, threadbare couch, and Akira couldn’t focus on anything outside the tingling awareness of Akechi’s proximity. They’d been… he had no idea, dating? Flirting? Sizing each other up? For weeks now. And now he was _here,_ next to him, one leg crossed over the other, hands in his lap, sitting next to him in the otherwise empty dark loft, flickering light dancing across his still, contemplative features, and Akira was sure Akechi could hear every time he had to swallow down his heart beating in his throat.

Akechi was attractive. Everyone knew that. He had soft, neatly trimmed hair, dewy skin, prim posture and a TV-ready smile, but more than that, every time he spoke, he belied an intelligent cunning that spiked right through Akira’s chest. He’d never met someone so aggressively his type before, and being this close to him, alone, thighs inches apart, Akira could feel sweat beading at the back of his neck. He wanted to move closer. Wanted his fingers in Akechi’s hair. Wanted to shamelessly smell the cologne mostly evaporated now but which still lingered behind his ear. Strange, naughty thoughts intruded in his head, of things he wanted to do and be done to him, formless and a little scary and all the more exciting for being scary. He twined his hands anxiously around at his sides, trying not to make his aroused fidgeting too obvious.

Akechi shifted his weight slightly, just repositioning himself, and Akira held his breath trying to decide if Akechi was… closer than he was, before. There had been space between them, a small amount, sure, but now he could feel the shifting of Akechi’s leg brushing against his own clothed thigh, a slight bump of his hip against his. Akechi stretched out his neck a bit, and when he was done, their shoulders were brushing.

Blood rushed through Akira’s ears. He stared at the TV, a neutral point of reference, not looking at Akechi’s face like he so desperately wanted. Wanted to study the tilt of his mouth and the shape of his eyes, figure out if his expression read the same way Akira felt.

Boldness, that’s what he needed. In the Metaverse, he could be bold. But here? Practically paralyzed. He wanted to inch closer to Akechi, too, but the old arm-stretch-and-drop was a little too obvious. Instead, Akira went with a fake yawn – turned real yawn – leaning forward and covering his mouth, and when he leaned back, he settled a fraction closer to Akechi, his shoulder overlapping his by a millimeter. Then, after a hesitant moment where Akechi seemed turned to stone, he nestled his body more firmly under Akira’s.

His back now half-rested on Akechi’s chest. And no mistaking now, he could feel the frantic pitter-patter of Akechi’s heart pounding under him, as hard and erratic as Akira’s own. They stayed like that a few minutes, both stiff and still, until Akira, taking a deep breath, placed one hand over Akechi’s, which now sat limply on his right thigh. Akechi’s fingers trembled faintly – or maybe it was him.

Whoever it was, Akechi definitely moved first: thumb grazing cautiously along the inside of Akira’s palm, the leather cold and unnatural yet firm and wholly Akechi. Akira responded by lacing their fingers together, left hand on right, Akira on top. Akechi squeezed him back.

Turning his head slightly toward Akechi, he inhaled, totally normally and not sniffing him, while leaning towards his throat, picking up warmth and comfort and the artificial sexy tang of whatever cologne or aftershave he sometimes wore. His whole head felt hot, muggy, like walking around Tokyo in the middle of the summer. Thick and cloying, he just wanted to lie down and nuzzle into him, basking in the comforting heat. Because Akechi’s body pressed against his, Akechi’s fingers squeezed and stroked his hand, his chest rose and fell and heart thumped and thumped in tune with Akira’s own body.

They hadn’t said a word, all this time. And not ever, really, about… themselves. Akira let himself think the jazz club, the aquarium, the cafe, were all dates. They _felt_ like dates. And Akechi always acted like they were special. Like Akira was special. Seemed more interested in him than anyone else. And this moment, it felt special. The movie droned on in front of them, but Akira hadn’t seen or heard any bit of it. All he could think about was...

Akira looked up at Akechi, heart slamming in his ears as he dared to see Akechi's expression. When hard garnet eyes met his, Akira's breath froze in his lungs. A warm, hooded gaze met Akira, a quiet fire burning low, his damp lips slightly parted. Was this... were they...?

Akira wasn't sure who moved first, this time. Maybe they both moved a little, at the same time, edging closer. Akira’s eyes drifted closed at the last second, a little afraid, more eager, when their lips finally met.

Warm. Warm, and a little wet, his lips fitting over Akira's. His first kiss. His fingers tightened over Akechi’s, minutely, trying to convey the rush of excitement and glee and almost relief pouring through him with his a little squeeze of his his hand. He kinda hoped it was Akechi's first, too.

They pulled apart for a second, breaths tangling between each other. Was that... good? Akira felt good. Almost woozy with how hard and fast his heart was beating, how shallowly he was breathing. Akira's eyes cracked open and Akechi was looking at him still, open need flickering behind his dark eyes. Akira tilted his head back up and definitely moved first this time, capturing Akechi’s lips under his own.

God he was so soft. Akechi leaned into him too, felt his lips pushing against his, meeting him eagerly. Thank goodness. That must mean he was enjoying this too, was kissing him back. He worried a little if he was any good at this, but they were just pressing against each other, heat on heat, lips both wet and a little dry, separating to draw in shaky breaths before they met again. Their hands lay forgotten on Akechi’s thigh. Akira pushed just a little bit on him, leveraging himself up to get the angle right. His neck kind of ached already from turning it to the side like this, but he didn’t want to move too much, change position, didn’t want to ruin this or pause it or do anything that might slow the sweet little ways Akechi’s lips met his, over and over.

Akechi definitely was kissing him back. Leaning in to him, moving his lips against his a little more eagerly. Akira wanted to touch him more, wanted to wrap himself around Akechi like a big warm pillow, but he didn't want to overstep, didn’t want to go too far. But when they met again, Akechi’s lips were just a little parted, like he was trying to eat into Akira's mouth. A tiny, hoarse little whimper slipped out from Akira's throat, and he shuddered and to hell with it, he finally slipped his hand up away from his hand to slide against Akechi's cheek and into his warm curtain of hair.

He'd longed to touch Akechi's hair again, after their little cafe date. It felt even better now that he could take his time, shamelessly letting his fingers graze against his scalp even as their lips stayed locked. Heatedly, he realized he could pull Akechi deeper into the kiss, his palm cradling the back of his head. He wanted to press Akechi into him, feel the long line of his body against his, a deep ache burrowing sharply in his chest, an ache the exact size and shape of the boy he was kissing.

Akira had to shift, had to move closer, had to wrap both arms around Akechi. So he turned his body, finally, fully facing Akechi, wrapping both his arms around his shoulders and pulling him flush against his chest. Akechi actually _gasped,_ breaking away for a second and making Akira’s panic rocket from his chest to the backs of his eyes, but Akechi just buried his face against Akira’s neck, hot breaths condensing unevenly, irregular, on his skin.

Underneath his palms, Akechi’s whole frame _trembled._ Akira had never seen him so raw and vulnerable, showing even a little weakness, though he was covering his face, pracitcally panting against Akira’s throat. One hand splayed up his spine and cradled the back of his head, letting his fingers pet through his soft brown hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp, and Akechi shivered again. Akechi’s own gloved hands rose up and rested on Akira’s chest, and he pushed himself up slightly to look him in the eyes. Akira realized _he_ must have looked like this, a few minutes ago, pupils blown and eyes wide with… surprise? Hope? It didn’t matter, whatever Akechi wanted in that moment, Akira would have sold his soul for.

His hands traced up and around Akechi’s face, thumbs grazing his jaw, the back of his index finger along Akechi’s cheek. This close, he could see the tiny spray of freckles just across his nose, something he probably keept covered up with makeup for his TV-perfect face. The tiny shift of pigment in his skin, something normally hidden away, something Akira can now see and touch and _kiss…_ well, when a thief finds something precious, he wants to take it, and before he realized it, his lips were dancing across the bridge of Akechi’s nose, wanting to show each and every little splotch of color his love, claim them under his eager lips.

Akechi grabbed for his face, longing and desperate and with a tight little whine before pulling Akira back against his mouth, kissing him with passion and longing that Akira eagerly reciprocated. As they hungrily devoured each other, Akechi occasionally flicked his tongue against his lips, making Akira’s whole body twitch. Akira, trembling but eager to go a little further, opened his mouth just a little.

Surprisingly, Akechi didn’t immediately leap on Akira’s invitation. They just continued kissing, mouths a little more open, jaws working into each other, and sometimes, serpent-quick, their tongues would meet, touching fitfully before darting away. Akechi was gentle, gentler than Akira would ever have thought of him, given everything he suspected. His hands still cupped Akira’s cheeks, pinkie fingers curled under his jaw and thumbs at the corner of each eye.

Eventually, the fire between them smoldered down to warm, cozy embers, and the heat of passion dissolved into slow sensuality. They each got bolder, gliding their tongues into each other’s mouths and sliding against each other. Akira worried for a moment that maybe he was bad at this, but instinct quickly overrode his anxious higher brain functions as Akechi dipped into his mouth and tasted his back teeth. Akira shivered and moaned softly again, and the sound made Akechi's grip shift, sliding his hands into his hair and stroking gloved fingers long and slow against his curls. Akira’s arms moved down, wrapping tightly around Akechi’s shoulders, then his waist.

Akira shifted, letting himself fall backwards while still firmly holding on to Akechi, gently tilting back and back and bringing him along, wondering if he’d resist or pull away, But Akechi went readily, falling forward onto Akira’s chest, lips still locked. This angle changed things _significantly,_ now that Akechi’s whole body pressed up against his in a burning line of heat with the force of gravity. Akira pulled back, just a moment, cracking his eyes open to stare at Akechi, the soft distant fuzziness of his eyes, the red swell of his lips. Akira brought up his hand to graze a thumb under his shiny bottom lip, and Akechi pressed a quick little peck against the pad of his finger.

So many thoughts and questions drifted through his mind. What did this mean for them? Was this going to change anything? But Akira’s voice got stuck in gummy webbing in his throat. Everything about this, the blue light of the TV dancing through Akechi’s hair, the soft garbled voices and soundtrack of the movie doing nothing to disguise the thrumming energy and rushing of blood through their hearts, hung so tenuously, gossamer as spider silk. Questioning it felt like sacrilege. Even acknowledging it felt like heresy. And no matter what, Akira didn’t want to separate from Akechi, not just yet. So instead he just closed his eyes again and Akechi’s lips caught his before he could think any more.

The finger Akechi kissed, with that hand Akira reached out blindly, following the slope of his shoulder to scrabble for his hand, locking their fingers together. And just like earlier, Akechi squeezed him back, so tight it almost hurt. Akira ran his other hand down Akechi’s back, feeling every bump and ridge of his spine, the curve of his shoulder blade, the way he shifted the angle of his head as he kissed him, how his hair brushed and tickled his cheeks and smelled faintly of warmth and sweetness.

Akechi didn’t let his hands stay idle, either. As he sank further down against Akira, releasing more of his weight against his chest and his hips and his knees, it allowed his other hand to stroke up and down Akira’s body, his arm and his ribs and his waist, up to his collarbone and neck, thumbs brushing his Adam’s apple, and it felt good, god it felt _so_ good for Akechi to just keep touching him, kissing him, tongue rolling against Akira’s as they breathed each other in. The pressure, the heat, the feel of his skin, the leather of his glove, Akira wanted to wrap his legs and arms around him and hold him and hold him and never, ever let go.

When Akechi’s knee edged up between his legs, Akira’s breath hitched and caught somewhere behind his teeth, and Akechi froze. They both paused like they were afraid they’d broken the moment. But, if neither of them wanted the moment to end, then how could it truly die? Akira squeezed Goro’s hand caught in his, an unasked question. _Do you want to keep going?_ Goro’s little cocky smirk bloomed molten affection deep in his chest. _Of course. Don’t you?_

They leaned in to each other so fast their teeth collided, a little painfully. But they both chuckled, giggling into each other’s mouths as they kissed some more, sometimes unable to even fit their lips together as a random bubble of laughter broke their concentration. Well, maybe their previous momentum was lost, but this was nice, too. Joyful little smooches, and now even Akechi teased him, kissing over each of Akira’s eyelids and the tip of his nose, and Akira retaliated by planting a big damp peck on both his cheeks, causing another little burst of laughter.

When was the last time he felt so happy? Akira might as well be floating, untethered to anything except by Akechi’s hand, Akechi’s legs sprawled over his, their lips battling for control. Akechi even leaned in and nipped along Akira’s jaw, nibbling until he snagged his earlobe between his teeth and _pulled_ , slow but hard, and suddenly Akira wasn’t laughing because a low groan rumbled from chest. Right against his hear, Akira heard Akechi’s intrigued little chuckle as his tongue slipped out and tagged just behind the shell of his ear, making Akira gasp. Then he moved down, and did the same to his throat. The noises that Akira made...he’d never heard come from his mouth before. Throaty, whiny, needy, a twinge of desperate. Akechi’s teeth _did something_ to him. And Akechi latched his mouth against his pulse, biting and suckling so hard Akira saw stars. The utter _possessiveness_ of it made him feel woozy. All Akira could do was hold on to him as tight as he could, throwing his knee around the back the back of Akechi’s legs and getting both arms around his back.

They’d been making out for, he has no idea at this point, long enough that his lips were actually starting to ache a little bit, but then again so was the rest of him, with a much different fire. Akira made a noise when Akechi’s teeth sank just a little too deep, high and breathy and half-choked. Akechi paused, hovering inches above Akira, panting heavily as Akira’s chest heaved underneath him. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Akira saw heat and desire and want in his eyes. The same things, he knew, were mirrored on his own face. And even though Akira had a distinct ache between his legs, an understood agreement held them apart. Not now. Not… like this. Akechi idly wiped his bottom lip, as though surprised how swollen and wet they’d become. He glanced to the side and noticed the credits were scrolling by on the tiny TV.

“We... missed the movie,” he murmured, feeling as dazed and out of his mind as Akira. He sat back a little, resuming his previous seat on the couch.

Akira pushed himself up, weakly, noting with a jolt of aroused intrigue that his uniform jacket sat askew on his shoulders, that Akechi’s perfect hair was tousled and wild. “We did,” he replied, and when did his voice sound so deep and throaty? He could have sworn he saw Akechi shudder a little bit.

Akechi ran a hand through his hair, trying to wrangle it back in place. “Another time, maybe.” He paused, silence hanging in the room awkwardly as they both tried to figure out where to go from here. “Could I... trouble you for a coffee, before I leave?”

Akira jolted to his feet, kind of relieved to have a plan, something he could do and focus on instead of the memory of Akechi’s mouth. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

When Akira passed him, though, Akechi stopped him, one hand on his chest. The other, he traced the tip of his index finger along the side of Akira’s neck, making him shiver. A little furrow worked its way between his brows. “My apologies,” Akechi murmured. “Hopefully, the collar of your uniform will cover these.”

Akira’s eyes widened. He hurried back downstairs and checked himself in the bathroom mirror, only to be greeted by a beautiful red bruise along his neck. He swayed. _Akechi_ gave him that. A hickey. He had _a hickey._

So, Akira made Akechi some coffee. With a hickey. That Akechi gave him.

When Akechi finished his cup and made to leave,Akira snagged the sleeve of his uniform blazer before he could stop himself. Akechi froze, staring, face impassively, defensively neutral. “It’s late,” Akira started, not really thinking before he formed this terrible excuse. “The trains will stop running soon. Do you...wanna stay over here?”

A heavy implication dangled in the room. “I don’t… have a change of clothes,” Akechi answered levelly.

“You said yourself, we’re about the same size. You can fit in some of mine.” After another uncomfortably long, brief pause, Akira added, “I can take the couch, you can have the bed.”

A tiny little smile broke through Akechi’s blank stare. “Actually, that does sound lovely. Shall we head upstairs?” And it made no sense, it was completely irrational, but when Akechi jokingly held out his arm, as though ready to guide Akira back to his room himself, Akira looped his elbow along with Akechi’s, with absolute sincerity and conviction.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thornofthelily) where I mostly retweet P5/R stuff and a [Tumblr](https://thornofthelily.tumblr.com/) where I reblog whatever I want.


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